


All of the While

by EA_Lakambini



Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Attraction, Awkward Flirting, Because there's always got to be a coffee shop AU, Coffee Shops, Cute, Getting Together, Good Omens Celebration 2020, M/M, but then they took over my keyboard, this was supposed to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EA_Lakambini/pseuds/EA_Lakambini
Summary: There’s an open mic night at that little coffee shop over the way. Crowley is a musician with few gigs lined up, and figures that it would be no big deal to go over there and perform a song or two. He’s not really expecting anything apart from a few tips and maybe a cup of overpriced coffee, if he’s lucky.(Turns out he’s luckier than he thinks, because there’s a rather cute blonde manning the counter…)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725724
Comments: 25
Kudos: 36
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	1. Wonderful Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> YES, I know, there's probably a million coffee shop AUs out there already, but I couldn't help myself ;)  
> I started writing this with the idea that I could probably wrap it up in about 800 words or so. I'm now at over 2,000 words and apparently it has decided on its own that it's going to be a multi-chapter thing. These boys just do crazy stuff to my brain, and I love them for it.
> 
> Title is from Landon Pigg's "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop", because I am not imaginative AT ALL.
> 
> Prompt: alternate universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony J. Crowley goes to the Heavenly Bean's open mic night. There's a cute blonde behind the counter. You can see where this is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Eric Clapton's song of the same name. It makes an appearance in this chapter.

It was one of those open mic nights at the Heavenly Bean. Anthony J. Crowley didn’t really frequent coffee shops much, but it was one of those things you just had to do if you wanted to get more listeners. With the electricity and water bills coming up, and gigs running a bit thin, he figured that it was as good a place as any to try and score some extra cash. The coffee shop patrons were usually more generous, probably because they were paying something like five quid for a teeny cup of bean water (and somehow putting it in a bigger cup and adding a mountain of whipped cream drove it up to nearly ten quid). And it beat busking in the cold outside any day.

The last performer just finished a very passionate but frankly out-of-tune rendition of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”, but it looked like he’d still gotten a couple of tips. It looked like the customers were into romantic classics; Crowley mentally went through his list of Songs That Make Sappy Rich Toffs Swoon™. He went up next and settled himself on the stool.

“Hello everyone, I’m Crowley. Here’s a song for all the lovers enjoying each other’s company tonight,” he said, smiling to himself as some of the patrons cheered and raised their cups of coffee. _You all should be drinking some decent alcohol, you know._ He began playing the intro to Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight”, and felt himself relax as he saw the listeners perk up with familiarity. This one was always a crowd pleaser.

_It’s late in the evening, she’s wondering what clothes to wear…_

Crowley had hardly sung the first line of the song, and people had already begun singing along. That was nice. He enjoyed how music could sweep people up in the mood and bring strangers together. (It also helped that he could afford not to exert so much effort because he was going to be drowned out anyway, especially with the subpar microphone that the Heavenly Bean had been using for the last three open mic nights.) And if he directed a flirtatious look or two towards some of the more elite-looking clientele… well, that was neither here nor there.

Crowley finished the song with a flourish, and gave a small bow. He took a peek at the little jar set out next to the stool and was pleased to see at least two tenners. _Nice, looks like some of the guests are loaded and sappy. My favorite kind._ The coffee shop employee managing the flow of performers nodded politely at him and handed over the tips, before quickly nudging the next singer onto the performance space.

Quickly counting out the notes and coins, Crowley figured he could spare a little bit tonight. He headed over to the counter and scanned the offerings; he had hoped that they’d be carrying something new for once, but, like the microphone, it all looked to be the same as everything else in the shop had been.

“Coffee, black, with one sugar?” The man behind the counter asked, smiling. Crowley blinked. He had seen this particular coffee shop guy once or twice, usually manning the counter or tidying up the tables. Distinctive white-blonde hair and blue eyes, and always wearing a ridiculous tartan bowtie, even if it wasn’t part of the dress code. But still. Kind of cute – now that Crowley stopped to look a little closer – with a little smile that looked just a smidge over satisfied.

“Err, yeah. For takeaway, please. How’d you know?” Crowley asked while counting out the coins from his tips. The blonde shrugged. “You seem like a black coffee kind of guy. That, and I think it’s what you’ve ordered the last three times you were here.” Crowley felt his cheeks grow warm; for a moment he thought it was sweet, how the guy knew his coffee order. Then he remembered that it was literally _the guy’s job_ to take note of coffee orders. He quickly handed over the payment, trying not to notice just how blue the other man’s eyes were.

The man handed over the coffee cup, along with a paper napkin, and Crowley looked down at the other man’s hand. Crowley couldn’t help it, he had a thing with hands; he figured it was something to do with his being a guitarist. Either way, Crowley noticed that the other man’s hands were pale and smooth, broad palms and slightly plump fingers.

“Enjoy your coffee, Crowley, and I do hope you’ll perform again at the next open mic. You were ‘wonderful tonight’ indeed,” the blonde said to him, with that little smile. Crowley blinked and then suddenly he had to move, since there was another person in line. He shifted his guitar in one hand while clutching the coffee cup in the other, and walked out of the shop, thinking of the cute coffee guy’s blue eyes and lilting voice and – _oh_ , _he knew my name, I hadn’t said anything, and he complimented me about the song, so he was listening to me sing, and –_

_Oh, shit._

Crowley knew he was in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is such a cutie (and Aziraphale can flirt politely I LOVE IT)
> 
> Thanks for dropping by!


	2. Angel of the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley goes back to the coffee shop a few mornings after. For coffee. (Because, of course.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left such sweet comments! I'm so surprised because I'm certain this kind of story had been done before and people might be tired of the trope already; I'll do my best to make a good contribution to that trope! <3
> 
> Chapter title is from the song of the same name, by Chip Taylor. The song of course makes an appearance in this chapter.

Crowley found himself back at the Heavenly Bean two days later. _It’s no big deal,_ he thought to himself as he walked up to the counter. _I’m just getting my morning coffee. I mean, it’s a coffee shop. Even if it’s seven blocks away from where I live._

To his disappointment – _why was he disappointed? Really? –_ a girl was manning the counter, and she was nowhere near as cute as the blonde. Crowley quickly placed his order of black coffee with one sugar, and tried not to look too sullen as he took the cup and sat down at a table near the window.

Out of the corner of his eye (not that he was looking around expectantly, not at all), he suddenly noticed a bit of movement and a flash of blonde hair. And there he was - cue the choirs of heaven here. The Cute Coffee Guy. (Crowley had added the capital letters in his head; it seemed appropriate). He was clearing up empty cups and saucers about two tables away, neatly stacking them on a tray.

_And now he was moving this way._

Crowley quickly gulped down the coffee until the cup was empty, trying not to shout at the intense heat of the coffee or at his own stupidity for chugging the hot coffee. He set the empty cup down on the table with a loud clunk, next to its saucer, trying to position it in a way that indicated that _yes_ , the cup needed clearing up, _so come over this way please so I can be closer to you._

(Okay, maybe not that last part. It’s hard to explain that part just from the positioning of a coffee cup.)

The Cute Coffee Guy stopped by his table. Crowley tried to get his mouth to work, which was a challenge considering that he had basically burned it by swallowing a large amount of scalding coffee.

“Hey.” _Wow, Anthony J. Crowley, great. Just great, first honors for that brilliant opening._

“Why, good morning! Fancy seeing you here! I don’t think we’ve got an open mic night scheduled today, do we?” Cute Coffee Guy said brightly, his smile open and engaging and oh so distracting. Crowley wiggled his fingers slightly in greeting. “No, I don’t think there is, but I felt like… coffee. Yeah, coffee, so I went here,” he replied dumbly. There was a special place in Hell for people like him who knew absolutely shit-all about making casual conversation with attractive men.

“Well, yes, it’s a coffee shop – Crowley, isn’t it? So I should think that’s what you’d come here for,” and really, Crowley just didn’t know what to do anymore, because _oh wow he remembered my name? Wait, what’s HIS name?_ He squinted slightly at Cute Coffee Guy’s name tag, trying to make out the two letters.

“Az. It’s short for Aziraphale,” the man’s smile wavered a little bit, and he tugged on the name tag a bit self-consciously. “I know, I know, it’s a mouthful, but my dear mum read the Bible a lot while she was pregnant with me and thought it a rather angelic name. It wasn’t as nice when I was getting teased in grammar school. And I never could buy any of those personalized key chains at museum gift shops.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said slowly, tasting the name on his tongue, and deciding that he _did_ like it. “Well, I think it sounds… nice. And I’m a musician, so I know what sounds nice.” He was already beating himself up the moment the words left his mouth. _Oh my God, you complete and utter DORK._

“Oh, praise be! My mum must surely be smiling down from above; my name has finally achieved the status of ‘nice’,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes but still smiling good-naturedly. He picked up Crowley’s cup and saucer, and quickly wiped down the table. “Perhaps in twenty more years my name shall be blessed at last with the status of ‘angelic’!”

Crowley's brain, rarely functioning in the best of times and not at all in the worst, unhelpfully supplied song lyrics (because that was what much of his brain was composed of) – _Just call him angel of the morning, angel… Then slowly turn away, I won’t beg you to stay, with me_ – and he could feel his face turning red.

“Twenty years, that long? I wouldn’t be so sure, angel.” Crowley nearly clapped a hand to his mouth. _Stupid stupid stupid! WHY would you call him that? Never mind the fact that he actually is so fucking cute enough to be one!_

Then Aziraphale laughed, a merry, full-throated kind of laugh, his blue eyes twinkling, before picking up his tray and heading back to the counter. Crowley decided then and there that being a dork was actually not such a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have officially established that Crowley is a dork
> 
> Thanks for dropping by!


	3. Treat You Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley runs into Aziraphale elsewhere of the coffee shop, and learns that they have something in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to update! It's been a crazy bunch of weeks, and I'm already behind on the rest of the month's prompts, but I couldn't leave this story alone either. This one's quite a lot longer because Crowley is still a bit of a disaster around his crush. :P
> 
> Chapter title is from Shawn Mendes' "Treat You Better". Was inspired by hearing this song used in an Aziraphale/Crowley music video, which you can check out [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUB3ZOIPktk)

“Look, Beez, I told you, the lady said she’d send over the contract on Tuesday – “ Crowley tried not to exhale in annoyance as he transferred his mobile phone from one ear to the other while walking through the shopping center. He had planned to actually purchase some groceries – because apparently man couldn’t live on bread alone, and definitely not on black coffee and instant noodles, either – and maybe buy some additional potting soil for his plants, but clearly his bandmate wasn’t a fan of Crowley’s plans.

**“Crowley, I don’t care what she said; once you booked her you should have gotten her damn signature on the contract already. Dagon is going to have a fit again when she hears about this, and you know that will end up affecting her bass lines and all that shit.”**

“Yes, yes, all right,” Crowley muttered, as he walked past the various little stores in the center. “I’ll follow up with her again; I don’t even know why you agreed to have the band play at a wedding like _that,_ Beez, it’s not like we can really play bossa nova,” he slowed down to a stop outside the local bookstore. Between some shelves, he thought he saw a blonde-haired man. And about the right height and build, too…

_Oh come on, Crowley; are you really going to double-take at every blonde blue-eyed guy in the entire city in the hopes that it’s Aziraphale?_

(Yes, yes, apparently he was.)

And because he also apparently had no self-control when it came to his crushes – let’s not go there – Crowley found himself entering the bookstore. He tried to keep the blonde in his line of vision without looking too obvious, and also while still continuing the conversation on his phone.

**“We’re taking it because we need the money. I don’t want to hear any bullshit from you. Follow up with her now; I’m giving you ten minutes before I call you back.”**

Before Crowley could reply, the call was cut. Crowley sighed and shoved the phone into his pocket, before looking up, his eyes darting around quickly, and – yes. The blonde was still there, in the Classical Literature section. Crowley grabbed a book from the nearest shelf and flipped through it, while watching from the corner of his eye. White-blonde hair, yes. A cream-colored jacket, tan slacks, simple loafers. The man suddenly turned round and looked straight at him, and there was no denying those bright blue eyes. _Aziraphale._

There was a flash of recognition, and Aziraphale smiled. At him.

 _You idiot,_ do _something._

Crowley lifted a hand to wave, and… accidentally flung the book he was holding towards a display of other books stacked on a nearby table. The display promptly fell apart, books dropping on the floor. _SHIT._ “Oh no, sorry, sorry,” he stammered to the bookstore employee who was currently shooting a death glare at him. Crowley tried to stack the books back neatly, when Aziraphale went up to him and started stacking the books himself, skillfully rebuilding the display almost as fast how he prepared coffee back in the shop.

“Hello, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, as soon as he had settled the last book back on display. “You dropped your book, I think? Though I admit I wasn’t expecting this to be on your reading list,” Crowley could feel his face turning red – and inside his brain was basically short-circuiting in embarrassment – and took the book that the other man was holding out to him, the one he'd accidentally thrown. _What to Expect When You’re Expecting._

(The universe was really just messing with him now, he was _sure_ of it.)

“No! No, Az, it’s not for me, it’s for… a friend. Yeah, she’s pregnant, wanted to know if the book was worth a buy,” Crowley said awkwardly. He hurriedly put the book back on the shelf. Aziraphale nodded. “I can’t be sure, but one of the girls at the shop read that book while she was pregnant, and she turned out all right, so I suppose there’s no harm,” Aziraphale continued, while shifting the books on his arm. Crowley tried to take a look at the titles.

“Do you enjoy these? My copy of Oscar Wilde’s works is quite worn down from all the repeated reading, so I figured I should get myself another,” Aziraphale said, noticing Crowley’s glance. Crowley tried to think back to his literature elective back in school but came up blank. “No, I don’t think I read him much,” Crowley answered. “I liked reading more on science; I really liked astronomy,” he continued. Aziraphale looked quite surprised at that.

“Oh, do you? What about it in particular?” Aziraphale asked, eyes wide and curious, and Crowley had to take a steadying breath because _hey, wow, it’s an actual_ conversation _outside the coffee shop so please don’t eff this up._ “I liked – “

And that was the moment when Crowley’s phone rang.

 _♫ I know I can treat you better than he can, and any girl like you deserves a gentleman…_ _♫_ Crowley almost groaned in frustration as he took the call.

 **“Okay, Anthony J. Crowley, ten minutes are up. Did you call her? You better have. So she’s sending the contract back to you today?”** _Ow. That’s LOUD._

“Beez, I haven’t talked to her, she wasn’t picking up – “ Crowley started, feeling Aziraphale’s amused gaze on him. He felt slightly panicked as he saw Aziraphale start walking away, towards the counter to pay for his books.

 **“Satan’s hairy _balls,_ then keep calling her! Spam her with text messages, send a hundred emails, jump into her answering machine, I don’t care. You better get that signature, or so help me, you’ll be managing _yourself_ and we both know that’s going to be absolute shite.” ** _Beep._

Crowley quickly locked his phone, the screen going blessedly dark, then rushed over to Aziraphale at the counter. “Sorry ‘bout that, angel, the boss was just checking in,” he said quickly, not noticing his use of the nickname until later (much later, when he could reflect and beat himself up on it).

“It’s fine,” Aziraphale replied. “In fact, you can do that now, since my boss just asked me to call him, too.” The blonde pulled out a phone from his pocket, and Crowley’s eyes widened. It was a Nokia 3310. He hadn’t seen one of those in a _decade._

“Hello, Gabriel? Yes, you asked me to call?” Aziraphale’s voice was still light and gentle, but Crowley could feel a slight nervousness in his tone.

 **“AZ! Yep, right on time!”** _Man, this guy is even louder than Beez,_ Crowley thought. Aziraphale was standing a good three feet away from him and he could hear every word.

**“Yeah, listen, I know it’s your day off, yada yada, but you’re not doing anything in about four hours, right? Of course you’re not; I know you’re just going to be at the park with a book or some nonsense. Anyway, I need the customer survey reports from the last three months compiled. I know you had it last, and I went through your stuff here in the staff room, couldn’t find it there; your locker’s not really organized. Just get that on my desk, yeah?”**

Crowley ground his teeth. The guy sounded like a pompous jerk, and clearly had no respect for Aziraphale’s privacy or schedule. He looked over to Aziraphale; the other man’s smile now looked rather forced.

“Certainly; I think it’s in the records section of the storage room, with all our other documents, but I’ll make sure it’s on your desk today,” Aziraphale said pleasantly, then looked slightly taken aback as the line went dead. He stiffly put the phone back in his pocket, then flexed his fingers slightly, before looking up in surprise as though he had just realized that Crowley was there.

Crowley knew his face wasn’t wearing a very pleasant expression. “So that’s… the boss of the Heavenly Bean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. “It’s all right,” Aziraphale said, smiling slightly, though his shoulders remained tense. “Gabriel isn’t… the easiest boss to have, but he’s not all bad.”

“I hope I don’t run into him, then,” Crowley grumbled. “He sounds like a prick.”

“Oh, don’t call him things like _that_ , dear fellow,” Aziraphale replied a touch primly, while taking his purchase from the counter and tucking it into his bag. “And unless you ask to ‘speak to a manager’, then I doubt you’ll run into him; he’s not too fond of being out on the shop floor, he prefers to do the accounts and such in the staff room. Or at home, if he can wrangle it – “

Crowley’s phone suddenly lit up again in his hand, and Shawn Mendes’ voice rang through the store again. He cringed as he quickly slid his thumb across the screen to reject the call. “Sorry,” he muttered. “My bandmates thought it would be funny to change up my ringtone to this, just because I can’t hit his vocal range.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Considering I’ve heard you sing several times now, I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” he commented. “But it sounds like you have your own shitty boss to get back to, I take it?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale in surprise. “What?” Aziraphale said, raising an eyebrow.

“Err, nothing,” Crowley answered, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “You just… didn’t seem the type to swear, after you told me off for calling your boss a prick.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “I didn’t tell you off for language, Crowley,” he said, and his eyes were mischievous now. “I aim for accuracy; Gabriel isn’t a prick, he’s a downright arse. Full of hot air when he’s in a good mood, and full of shit when he’s not. Which is most days.” Crowley couldn’t help letting out a laugh; it was quite disconcerting to hear colorful words from such a mild-mannered guy. Aziraphale smirked slightly, and began making his way towards the exit of the bookstore.

“You… heading anywhere?” Crowley asked, trying to sound casual and not _at all_ like a stalker. Aziraphale had his phone out again, and was going through his messages. “Yeah, got some errands to run, and apparently Gabriel wants me to pick up some food for him for when he wraps up his shift.”

“I don’t think that’s part of your job, angel.” Crowley commented, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets so Aziraphale wouldn’t see them clenched into fists. Aziraphale sighed softly, almost too soft for Crowley to hear. “Well, I’m already here, and I suppose it’s not too much trouble, as long as he pays me back this time – “

Aziraphale’s phone rang, and he quickly answered it. “Gabriel? Yes, I can pick something up, I was just going to reply – “ and then Crowley could hear the guy on the other line talking loudly over the rest of Aziraphale’s sentence.

**“Good, Az; just make sure they don’t put too much salt on it, got it? No dessert for me in that combo meal, and don’t you go getting it for yourself, mind. You’re getting a bit round already, buddy; you should join me for yogilates next week.”**

“Yes, less salt, no dessert, got it,” Aziraphale replied calmly, but Crowley noticed that slight stiffness in his posture again. _Ugh, what a dick; he shouldn’t be talking to Aziraphale like that._

**“Make it quick. Gabriel out.”**

_And he was also clearly full of himself. No one ends a call like_ that _, what the hell._

“Hey, Aziraphale?” Crowley said, unable to help himself. The blonde looked up from his phone, looked at him, and Crowley fought back the urge to just _touch_ him because he looked quite upset now. “Don’t… listen to everything he says. You look fine, and you should be having time for yourself, and – and, yeah, yogilates isn’t that fun, really,” Crowley said all in a rush.

Aziraphale smiled a bigger smile then, and Crowley saw his shoulders relax fully. “Thank you, Crowley,” he murmured. “I’ll see you the next time you come by the shop, then? You still haven’t told me about your interest in astronomy.”

Crowley nodded, smiling back, because how could he not, and because _he remembered me saying that_. Aziraphale gave a casual wave then walked off, his steps light against the floor but heavy in Crowley’s mind.

_Someone like you deserves better, angel. Deserves everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because if you can't flirt with them at a coffee shop, flirting with them at a bookstore - or while commiserating over crap bosses - works just as well. (and no, I'm not saying this based on personal experience, what are you thinking)
> 
> Thanks for dropping by!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for dropping by!


End file.
